


All Is Forgiven

by Kissa



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, Friends to Lovers, Just one night, M/M, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22130116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissa/pseuds/Kissa
Summary: After dismissing Jaskier so harshly on the mountain, Geralt is haunted by guilt. He thinks he did the right thing, protecting his friend from the approaching threats and challenges coming his way, but then why does he feel so miserable? Months later, he and Jaskier cross paths again.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 19
Kudos: 576





	1. Forgiveness is Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> I am such a merc. I wrote this as a treat for my muse and fandom BFF, who is very much into Geralt and Jaskier and who desired to read one such piece from me.  
> I hope you like this. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt seeks Jaskier out to explain himself over the harsh way he sent his bard friend away. Forgiveness is easily gained.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Geralt regretted them. He regretted many things he’d said in his life, but this was different. This stung in a particularly nasty way, and when he turned and saw the hurt look on Jaskier’s features, he felt his heart take a dive and plunge into his stomach, letting the acid start to eat at it. Well, not really, but he was sure that would feel more bearable than what he felt at that moment. 

***

“Begone, Witcher,” the innkeeper said, giving Geralt a disgusted look. “We’re full, and even if we had a room, we don’t welcome the likes of you.” 

“But you do welcome coin, don’t you?” Geralt asked. He was so unbelievably tired, and he’d been walking for days, dragging a monster corpse along for half of that time. 

“This man is my guest,” a familiar voice was heard before its owner came into view. “Now please, good sir, let him through.” 

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked, whispering, as though afraid to disturb a hallucination. 

“Your favourite bard in all the Continent,” Jaskier gave back. “Follow me to the beer and ladies.” 

Guilt gnawed at Geralt with renewed force. 

Jaskier seemed to be doing well. He was dressed in fine clothes and he had coin, judging by how many of the inn’s lady entertainers tried to gain his favour. 

One of them bent down to listen to a whispered request from Jaskier and left promptly after. Soon, she reappeared by Geralt’s side and placed a tankard of dark ale in front of him. 

Geralt drank, watching Jaskier, who was watching him and raising his own glass. 

The party grew louder and merrier as the alcohol flowed. While on the balcony of the big hall, Geralt caught Jaskier alone for a moment. 

“Can we talk? Please?” He asked. 

“Let’s go up to the room. I’m sure you want to rest and the lovely people of this town won’t miss me for a few minutes.”

Upstairs, the sleeping part of the room was cool and quiet. The sheets were clean and fragrant. There were flowers on the nightstands. 

A hot bath was waiting nearby.

“Jaskier, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to say what I wanted to say, back on the mountain.” Geralt blurted it all out in one breath. Killing monsters, easy peasy. Baring his feelings to another like that made death seem very appealing in contrast. 

“Geralt. All is forgiven.” Jaskier said. “I tried to be mad at you and hate you, but I couldn’t. I know now I can’t. And in time, I understood why you chased me away. Which is what filled me with hope that our paths would cross again.” 

Geralt looked at the younger man and noticed Jaskier was trembling. Not easily noticeable, just in his voice and in the way he held one of his hands in the other, afraid to have it betray him. 

“I was afraid I could not protect you from the threats that were coming.” He spoke. “I wracked my brains how to send you away without also making you feel guilt.” 

“So you broke my heart instead?” Jaskier asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Geralt removed the outer layers of his armour and went to sit next to him. 

“I’m not an idiot, Geralt. I choose to be with you and follow you around. I don’t expect you to look after me like I’m a child. In fact, the less you think of me as your child, the better.” 

The witcher tended to be dense when it came to matters of the heart, but his enhanced senses did not allow him to miss what Jaskier was not saying, beyond the words that were uttered between them. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He said, making the bard’s jaw drop. “And I’m sorry for approaching this the wrong way.”

“As I said, all is forgiven. I missed you, Geralt.” Jaskier said, standing again. “Would you like to use the bath? It might be of more use to you than to me. I already had one yesterday.” 

Geralt was about to say something, but he decided Jaskier had a point and not everything had to be argued with. Besides, he could smell himself, and that was a worrying sign. 

He took longer than normally in the bath, getting himself as clean as possible and using all the fragrant concoctions in the vials on the tub edge. It was uncertain when he would get another chance to bathe. 

When he emerged, he saw Jaskier had left him the bed. The younger man was on the floor with a pillow and a throw, clad only in his undergarments. 

Geralt growled at the arrangement, making his displeasure known. 

“Bed, Jaskier. Now. I’m taking the floor.” 

“Poppycock, my dear Witcher. You are my road-weary guest, I am not making you sleep on hard wood. Besides, the bed is large enough for us both.” 

“As you wish.” 

Geralt waited until Jaskier settled under the covers, facing the window, then he went to the other side, shedding his drying cloth and slipping right under the covers as well. 

Minutes after the candle was out, Geralt could tell Jaskier was on edge and how. 

“You know I cannot give you what you want. The kind of life I lead does not allow me to promise myself to others to such extent.”

Jaskier turned to face Geralt, his features a play of shadow and moonlight. 

“I never asked for that which you could not give.”

“Then what do you want?” Geralt asked in the dark, watching Jaskier’s features rearrange themselves in a soft expression. 

“It’s you, it’s always you, my thick friend.” 

In the dark, Geralt reached over and pulled the bard’s smaller frame flush against him, only the thin fabric of Jaskier’s undergarments between them. 

From the way Jaskier’s body warmed up immediately against his, Geralt could tell he’d had the right idea. But, just to make sure: 

“Is this what you want? Even if were only the once?” 

“Yes, gods, Geralt, how come you’re the one apologizing and I’m having to grovel?” Jaskier said, resting his head on the witcher’s shoulder. “I quite like it here, on you. I might not be easily persuaded to leave.”

“Then stay a while.” Geralt said, pulling Jaskier close and finally bringing their lips together. 

Jaskier thought Geralt would be rough and hurried. As one would expect from a battle-hardened monster hunter. But he couldn’t have been more wrong, and he was happy to learn that. 

Geralt’s lips were even better-feeling against his own as he imagined and he suddenly couldn’t get enough. This is it, it’s finally happening, the one thing he’s been fantasizing about since he met the witcher. He doesn’t stop to question how and why Geralt even wants him, if Geralt is into men at all, since most of the time Geralt’s preferences seem to have two settings: “Leave me alone or I’ll kill you” or “crazy and powerful mage”. 

Jaskier let himself enjoy Geralt’s touches and gave in to his cravings, not holding back as he would with one of the noble wives who usually fell under his spell. 

Geralt kissed like a storm on a summer day and Jaskier let himself be swept into the flurry of pleasure. He felt it spread and grow, from his lips to his head, making him feel dizzy; down his spine, awakening nerve endings that no one usually reached. 

He was rolling his hips into Geralt’s, rubbing his still clothed cock onto the witcher’s thigh. His mind skipped forward to when Geralt would finally fuck him - he had no idea how he would walk away from that unbroken, but he hoped it would happen nonetheless. 

Geralt’s hands slid over his whole body, as if mapping him to see were they could draw some sensation out from. They went into his hair, ruffling the already unruly curls, down his back, over his chest, fingers pinching and rolling his nipples until he squeaked like an animal and felt a wet patch form on his undergarments. The hands moved on downward, beneath the fabric, to cup and squeeze at his cheeks and pull him closer to Geralt. 

“Jaskier, look at me.” Geralt said, in an even lower than usual tone. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Everything in the bard’s lust-stoned mind ground to a screeching halt. 

“ You what-? Geralt, I… alright. Alright. Get yourself together...” Jaskier had to take a few deep breaths. It would be his first time, but damn did he feel up for it. 

Geralt was watching the thoughts play out on the bard’s face, a corner of his mouth turned up. 

“There’s oil in my bag.”

“What, saddle oil?!” Jaskier scoffed, suddenly back in control. “None of that gross stuff will come near your lovely bottom. Or my favourite organ.” 

He reached over to the nightstand and produced a colourful vial with a sparkling liquid inside it. 

“Recipe from the elves. I too can be nice to mages, and sometimes it pays off.” 

He knelt up only long enough to rid himself of the one piece of clothing he still had on, watching Geralt turn onto all fours. 

“Absolutely not! No goat pose for you. I want this, Geralt. I want you. I want to see your face and for you to see mine. So get comfy on the bed.” 

Geralt listened, still looking amused by his bard’s sudden bossiness. Surely he was covering up something, like maybe not having fucked a man before, but that was alright. Geralt hadn’t either, and while he had no high expectations from how it would come to pass, Jaskier had already exceeded those by thinking of how to make it pleasurable and intimate. 

“Feels daunting.” Geralt commented, spreading himself onto the bed, like Jaskier had demanded. “How do women do this all the time.” 

He wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked himself lazily, watching Jaskier uncap the vial and spread some of the liquid onto himself. 

The vial was placed somewhere close by as Jaskier turned his attention onto the witcher in his bed. He lay down on top of Geralt, initiating a kiss the likes Geralt had only felt from people with magical abilities. His worries soon melted away and he was finally able to sink into the current moment. 

He liked the closeness. He had had his doubts about how vulnerable it would make him feel and how awkward it might be, but it was not. He did not feel self-conscious as his lips swelled, bitten and worried at by Jaskier, or as his whole body shivered pleasantly from the feeling of the younger man’s lips on his neck and chest. He hissed out a breath when he felt teeth on one of his nipples, followed by tongue and lips locking down and sucking. The sensation was so intense and traveled across his whole body, making him squirm and clutch at the sheets. His cock twitched and leaked a further few drops onto his belly. Geralt dug his heels into the mattress and flexed his legs, as though trying to fuck the air, desperate for relief. 

But Jaksier took his time, and thoroughly distracted him with kisses and gentle, teasing touches to the rest of his body, while his fingers worked to open him up. Geralt had not expected more consideration past the use of some sort of slippery substance to ease the penetration, but again, Jaskier went above and beyond, getting him to feel like a puddle about to be absorbed into the sheets below while also making sure that Geralt would feel nothing but pleasure from him. 

A long time ago, as a teenager listening to grown ups talk in a pub, Geralt had heard men say “the proper lubricant for backdoor fun is not tears - it’s blood” and he had shuddered at the thought. Why force, when you can ask? And why hurt, when you can caress? The trainee witcher had wondered, his disgust towards humanity growing further that day. 

But now, Jaskier’s fingers, coated generously in the elven preparation, were already feeling incredible inside him, sometimes skating over a part deep inside that made him tremble with delight. 

Jaskier was watching him closely, a look of triumph on his face as Geralt’s features contorting into a look of unbearable pleasure told him he had found his target. 

He removed his fingers and wiped them on a cloth he had brought and set nearby earlier, then focused all his attention on Geralt, angling himself just right and leaning down for a kiss. 

The slide in was effortless and felt good in itself, Geralt noted, but not as good as the stretch that followed. Being kissed at the same time as being entered proved to be a genius move, and the witcher thought he felt his soul briefly leave his body so it could expand a bit and absorb all the pleasure it was being dealt. Sensations traveled along new pathways all across his body and he lost control. 

Jaskier on the other hand was still holding on to his, watching closely and making sure Geralt was having the best of times. Then he started to move, angling the head of his cock to hit Geralt’s spot. He wanted to watch the mighty witcher fall apart before him - because of him. 

And oh, did his efforts get repaid. 

Geralt, as the bard discovered, was not a loud lover. He need not worry that the sounds of the party downstairs would not cover his sounds. The sounds he did make were the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed. Geralt growled and grunted, low sounds that should have been underwhelming in theory, but which somehow carried so much need and abandon across, that Jaskier felt them go directly to the base of his spine, making pleasure spasms spread all through him. Geralt was moaning too, and cursing under his breath, this time far more liberal with the words than his usual, succint “fuck”. His hands were clutching at the sheets and his back was arching, head digging into the soft pillow as Jaskier filled him and stroked his spot. It didn’t even occur to him that touching himself was an option, and by the way he felt, clenching and releasing around Jaskier’s length, it wouldn’t even be required. 

Geralt came untouched, stiffening beneath Jaskier and only a strangled, overwhelmed, “Jas-hhhhhhhhhh” leaving his lips as he spent himself. 

Jaskier thought the sight of Geralt, glistening with sweat and aglow with pleasure, going slack beneath him could very well be the last earthly sight he was allowed to see, and he’d be alright with that. There was no place, no thing, no living being, no concept more beautiful to him than that heady mix of strong and tender Geralt embodied right then. It pushed him over the edge easily, into a release so powerful, he feared he might die for good if it lasted much longer. Trembling and not really feeling the contours of his own body, Jaskier pulled out and went to lie down on Geralt’s chest, listening to their synchronised, now calming breaths. 

He did not care that he was making a mess of the both of them, all he cared about was being allowed near Geralt for one moment longer. 

Strong arms came to wrap around him and he felt a hand in his hair, caressing. Geralt still had his eyes closed, still enjoying the afterglow like a greedy dragon sleeping atop its treasure. 

Long minutes passed, and Jaskier thought Geralt might have fallen asleep, but the witcher made a pleased sound in the back of his throat. 

“All good?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier only managed to nod his head while looking up at him. 

Another “Mhrrrrrmm” followed, after which Geralt stretched and lazily announced, “my turn.”

(end)


	2. ALL the wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night continues, and it's not easy being Jaskier at this particular time. But it pays off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to call this "Bard and boujee" but since not everyone would get the reference, the fic is saved.  
> I have written more porn with feelings, per popular request. I hope you guys dig it.

Jaskier looked at the witcher.  
  
He was a vision of glistening, languid grace on the sheets, bathed in the blue moonlight that also made the thin sheen of sweat on his skin look like shimmer. The bard felt a small twitch of delight at the thought that he had given Geralt that look.  
  
He reached for the wet cloth he had put nearby and carefully cleaned Geralt’s belly and chest, then his own.  
  
Most of the scene he found himself in felt like a dream. Perhaps he was actually dying in a ditch somewhere, his mind projecting his dearest fantasy for him to escape the agony. If he did survive, he would write the longest, most explicit ballad about this night. With changed names, of course.  
  
He watched Geralt grab his vial from where it lay forgotten to the side and felt suddenly shy and small.  
  
Now that Geralt had allowed him this close, Jaskier could see how beautiful and exceptional the witcher was. He had said he did not want that which Geralt could not give him, but now he knew he had lied - he also knew he would hurt so much watching Geralt chase the whims of this sorceress or the other, risking his life fighting other people’s battles and getting neither glory, nor coin for it all.  
  
He had not expected for the night to begin as it had and he was still overwhelmed by it.  
  
“I can feel you start to fret. Are you having second thoughts? We can stop. I’ll go to the floor.” Geralt said in his usual grumble. “It’s not like you to be so quiet and leave me with the talking.”  
  
“I’m fine, Geralt. Just still blown away. It’s not every day a poor lonely boy gets his deepest fantasies made reality and then some.”  
  
“Hmm.” Geralt offered, eyeing the vial in his hand and Jaskier.  
  
The vial was laid on the sheets once again and the witcher’s hands came to rest on Jaskier’s hips, pulling him close until the bard was straddling his waist.  
  
“You’re lonely?” Geralt asked, his hands now moving up along Jaskier’s sides and over to his pecs, kneading the muscles there slowly.  
  
“Not… usually. But you know, inside. Beneath everything else. You must feel it too.”   
  
“Life is short, Jaskier. You please yourself in every way you can along the way.” Geralt hummed, having sat up with the smaller man wrapped around him. “I’m going to make you forget everything else but here and now.”  
  
When he was pulled down for a kiss, Jaskier felt his heart start to settle and stop fighting against his ribcage like a trapped bird.  
  
It felt like they kissed for ages, settled comfortably together, before Geralt’s slick fingers found their way behind Jaskier, who hadn’t even noticed Geralt reach for the vial and uncap it.  
  
Before he realised he was doing it, he was already fucking himself on two of Geralt’s fingers, and the witcher allowed it, watching him with a rapt expression. With every bounce, the fingers went deeper in, and Jaskier had to cling to Geralt’s strong frame when the fingertips brushed over his fireworks spot. He briefly saw little stars in front of his closed eyes and he tried to distract and rein himself in by nipping at Geralt’s shoulder, moving up to kiss his neck. But it only served to get him more aroused and bring him further to a point where control was no more and his mind left the scene completely.  
  
“You’re taking forever, Geralt.” Jaskier said, pressing the words out between nips to the witcher’s skin. The white scars beneath his lips felt so strange, but the bard felt overwhelmed with tenderness for the other man. He briefly wished he had the powers of a mage, to create a palace away from the world’s sorrows, where he could have Geralt be only his, safe and cared for, always with a full belly and never feeling the bite of cold and fatigue or the sharp dagger of wounds caused by monsters or the humans who paid him to get rid of said monsters.  
  
“It’s a very small hole.” Geralt gave back, mirth audible in his words.  
  
“That is a cunning humblebrag if I ever heard one.” Jaskier sighed. 

“Just being practical. I intend to have you until I’m spent. And that can take a while.”  
  


“As soon as you get to say more than two words, all of them turn insolent.”  
  
“I think you like that about me.” Geralt said, finally angling himself into place and gently guiding Jaskier down onto his cock.  
  
The bard was now robbed of all his words. His eyes grew big and round before his entire face became a mask of pleasure and relief. His world seamlessly fell into place around the two of them when Geralt was fully sheathed within him. It was all so intimate, so soft and sweet, although the monster hunter was anything but. However, his hands cradled the bard’s soft cheeks with care before he lifted him off his lap and ever so slightly pushed up and back in.  
  
“I won’t last,” Jaskier said matter-of-factly.  
  
“No one’s keeping score.” Geralt whispered, leaning the younger man backward and sucking a particularly enticing spot on his neck. Next, he bent his knees and pushed himself further, supporting Jaskier’s hips and letting him arch back until the top of his head rested on the bed.  
  
Jaskier could only flail in the new position. As soon as he understood Geralt had him and had all the control, he let go and stopped wriggling. The way Geralt was holding him was maddeningly effective. Somehow, all that cock had fit inside him and its tip was easily resting against his spot.  
  
Then the thrusts began, first slow and calculated, then with more abandon and less caution. And just when he thought he was going to explode and possibly flood the inn, Geralt let his hips drop to the bed and followed him down, taking care to not fully rest on his weight on his smaller lover.  
  
Now they were up close, facing each other, joined so closely Jaskier could no longer tell where he ended and where Geralt began.  
  
It briefly occurred to him this was not the way to fuck a one night stand. It was something older married couples rediscovered and poured new tenderness into, and it was strange how Geralt was holding him, arms wrapped tightly around him, kissing him insatiably, moving inside him with a determined, compelling rhythm, that did everything for bringing Jaskier’s release about and not so much for the witcher’s own.  
  
“Ge-rrr-hhhhhh-aaaaaaltt,” was the only thing Jaskier was able to utter as he tried to announce he was close. It only earned him a smile and a further kiss from the witcher, who moved away a bit to watch pleasure play out on Jaskier’s features as his peak hit.  
  
The first time he came, he promptly passed out after, for the shortest moment. It did not last long, as Geralt changed their position again and Jaskier found himself on top, just holding on to Geralt for dear life as he was fucked within an inch of his life.  
  
Geralt managed to wring eight orgasms from his partner (and a piece of his soul, Jaskier was sure of it) before he let himself come.  
  
He continued to hold Jaskier as they came down from their high and listened to the bard’s breath becoming even again.  
  
Outside, the roosters crowed for the first time.  
  
Slowly, Geralt let himself slip free and used the cloth from earlier (well, a cleanish corner of it) to clean them both up before going to lie down on the pillows, with Jaskier using one of his fuzzy pecs as a pillow.  
  
“When do we have to leave?” Geralt asked, actually looking forward to some hours of rest in the relative safety of the inn, together with Jaskier.  
  
“We don’t have to… well, when you want to.” Jaskier said, sighing in contentment. “I’m going to be here for a while, soaking it all in.”  
  
He took a long time to fall asleep, not because he didn’t need it - because he did - but because he was afraid Geralt would leave like a thief in the night, as he was known to do. Eventually, exhaustion got the best of him.  
  
When he woke up, sometime mid-morning, the first thing he saw was a naked Geralt, splayed out like a cat next to him, watching him wake up and also tickling his belly in an attempt to rush the process.  
  
“Hurry up, I want a bath and I think we should share. Temeria is far away and we don’t know how long we’ll take to get there this time.”  
  
Jaskier still thought he was dreaming. _All_ his wishes from the last few months had come true in one night - including getting his friend and muse back.   
  



End file.
